


Stitched, Hidden Parts

by wishfulclicking



Category: Chronicle (2012)
Genre: Crush, M/M, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-16
Updated: 2012-12-16
Packaged: 2017-11-21 05:45:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/594126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wishfulclicking/pseuds/wishfulclicking
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve and Andrew get ready for the talent show.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stitched, Hidden Parts

**Author's Note:**

  * For [gigantic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gigantic/gifts).



> For gigantic: hope you enjoy it. Thanks to T for beta.

Andrew floats, crashes through the ceiling, doesn’t stop when he’s choking on sky, pushes harder until he bursts apart and scatters across Seattle. At home his camera rests safe in its hiding spot. Death like that would probably be preferable to the slow agony twitching underneath his surface. He shouldn’t be this stressed from being alone with Steve going over plans for the talent show. This isn’t the first time they’ve been alone, and he’s great at using his powers, the audience is nonessential.

His elbows are locked, ankles loosely crossed, and he’s holding himself in his practiced slouch. This is something he’s thought out with his camera, the best way to sit when it’s just him and Steve alone without Matt to pull attention. Sometimes Andrew wants to disappear.

‘Okay, blue, green, grey, or if you’re feeling froggy-- the purple,’ Steve says after he turns around, striking an exaggerated pose with the aforementioned suits draped over arm. ‘We have to pick a suit first then deal with the accessories.’

‘I don’t really care,’ Andrew says, pauses, then adds: ‘Whatever you choose.’

‘So the purple.’ Steve raises his eyebrows, bites back a grin, and Andrew has to stop watching him like this.

‘How does one get a purple suit?’

‘Like this,’ says Steve before he throws the garment at Andrews head without warning. The suit hits an invisible barrier, starts to arc towards the floor, only to be stopped and held midair. ‘You’re good at this. Ever consider going into the hero business?’ asks Steve. It sounds like a joke but he has moved to join Andrew on the bed--so close his warmth is a tangible presence--and his tone does hold a hint of seriousness to it like Andrew’s future plans are things he spends notable time thinking on, but that all may be in his head because Steve looks unbothered and this is why Andrew wishes he could live outside of time in moments just to gather himself and review the scene to understand the motive.

‘Why, are you looking to be my sidekick?’ Andrew watches Steve’s smile half quirk,the dimples that appear whenever someone gets in on the joke and keeps it going.

‘Well,’ he draws out, ‘it has to fit into my growing political career. Cory Booker has laid out the blueprint. Rising political star by day and superhero by night.’

‘Superheroes already? You don’t even know we’d be any good at it.’

Steve rolls his eyes and throws himself onto his back with a loud sigh. ‘Andrew Detmer, when will you listen to me and just accept your greatness? I’m not ever wrong about people and I’m not wrong about you.’ He shifts onto his side, slides the chosen suit over with a mischievous look. ‘Now go dress up for me.’

In the bathroom Andrew puts on the clothes with minimal fuss, never taking time to look at himself until he’s done. He doesn’t see much: the suit is not as loose as he’d thought it would be, his hair exists, and he’s pale. He attempts a smile but only gets halfway before everything begins to feel useless. He needs to stop wasting time looking for any physical manifestation of his new power or actively not thinking about how this same suit was flush against Steve’s body at some point in the past. God, he knows they haven’t been granted any extrasensory gifts (he’s done numerous, extensive tests on himself to figure out all they could do) but he can’t help but feel the ghost of Steve’s presence cloaked around him.

Whatever twisted, pointless path his thoughts were headed on are interrupted by Steve’s gentle, yet insistent tapping. ‘Andrew,’ he drawls out in song, ‘are you going to let me see?’

‘You’re not missing much,’ Andrew says through the door. It’s a joke, or at least his best approximation of one. When he realized the powers and the three of them weren’t going away, Andrew decided to make an effort. Besides perfecting the shield, he set up his camera and practiced smiling and joking tones to overcome the amount of time he didn’t talk to people besides his mom and camera lens.

‘Are you kidding me? I’m missing everything because I don’t have x-ray vision. Open the door so I can see my handiwork,’ says Steve.

Andrew swings the door open with a flick of his wrist because he likes to show off and this is something he’s good, no, the best at, and looks to Steve to gauge his reaction. Steve is silent, taking in Andrew’s entire length with a thoughtful expression on his face, which he holds long enough to fuck with Andrew before he breaks out a big grin. ‘The most important thing you’ll ever know in life, Andrew, is to never doubt me, for I have great taste and am always right.’ He walks behind him and stares at their reflections in the mirror, their gazes meet and, suddenly, with Steve so close to him, though he logically knows better, the entire room feels smaller than the bathroom Andrew was just in alone.

He misses whatever Steve says next so he asks him to repeat it.‘Your eyes,’ says Steve, ‘the suit works with your eyes.’

The phone rings, Steve runs out to answer it, and Andrew looks at his reflection, trying to see what could possibly make Steve smile as he does when looking at him. A change in lighting could be responsible for him not looking as pale, but that’s all. A twist of his fingers and the purple suit does a little jig before it collapses upon Steve’s return.

‘Okay, David Blaine, we have the clothes, the act, now for the final piece. I, of course, will be your stunning assistant,’ he says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world and Andrew’s smiling just in response because that’s what people do when the sun shines on them, they bask. ‘Needing more immediate action: that was my mom, she wanted to know if you were staying for dinner?’

‘I can’t,’ comes out with more force than Andrew intends. This experience has been a slow reveal to something he fears is written all over his body like graffiti in a code just waiting for someone to decipher. He’s been ignorant of it as best as he could but prolonged exposure to Steve without Matt being the third has stripped him bare; and he can’t afford his stupidity ruining everything. A day, or two, with distance could fix things. ‘Not that I don’t want to, but I need to be home for my mom.’

Steve nods but still looks not fully happy. ‘I have to call my mom back to tell her you’re not staying, I just,’ he laughs, ‘I just assumed you would and told her to pick up something extra.’ He looks down before looking up to Andrew with a smile. ‘Should have checked first.’

‘Maybe another time?’offers Andrew; maybe on a day when it’s just the two of them on a roof with the sky instead of four walls closing in, maybe then he’ll be better about hiding now that he knows.

‘Yeah, yeah. Make sure you’re on time, meet me backstage, and get Matt to hold your camera. No distractions.’ Steve goes to open the door with a flick of his finger but shrugs when he overreaches and slams the door open with a loud bang that echoes throughout the house. ‘Take the suit with you. Hang it up immediately when you get home, you may be better with this X-men stuff but I reign supreme when it comes to wardrobe care.’ He stands in the doorway for a moment, suspended, then shakes his head and disappears.

Andrew falls against the shut bathroom door behind him, slides out the jacket, and breathes.


End file.
